Honey Flower
by genkischuldich
Summary: Weiss Side B fic. Aya is acting strangely, and it may be connected to a girl from a nearby school. Yaoi. Free x Michel (main). RanKen. BradSchu.
1. Communication

Fic: "Honey Flower" (Part one)  
  
Fandom: Weiß Side B.  
  
Rating: Currently PG.  
  
Pairing: FreexMichel. RanKen. Others  
  
Warnings: Shounen ai, het, implied incest.  
  
Disclaimer: WSB belongs to Project Weiß, Koyasu Takehito and Oomine Shouko. I'm not making any money from this.  
  
Special thanks to Kwobtchan, Murasaki Suishou, as well as Hopeofdawn and Scribblemoose from the Anime Writers list for beta work.  
  
***  
  
Honey Flower, Part One.  
  
The snow was still falling, and a lilac glow filtered through the curtains as it had the thick clouds. In the dim light, Michel could see a grey body coccooned in blankets as a defence against the cold.  
  
He landed on the mattress with a soft thump and grinned as Aya shifted awkwardly beneath him, asleep and not aware of his presence yet. Ken had told him he'd never get this close to him before he was forcibly ejected from the room. He must've known that Michel would take that as a challenge.  
  
"Aya!" he cajoled, slapping his face lightly.  
  
Aya jerked a little, causing Michel to jump. Curly blond hair fell into his eyes, and he pushed it back behind his ears with a sigh. Now he was closer, Aya didn't look any healthier. His skin was tight against his cheekbones and his hair fell limply against his face.  
  
"Aya~!" he said, poking at him a little more. "The post arrived! You got a letter from Japan!"  
  
Aya's blank eyes looked through Michel, towards the window. He mumbled something incoherent and tried to roll over onto his side. Michel knelt beside him and lightly stroked his hair. It always seemed to him that the best way to fight lethargy was with smiling denial.  
  
"Stop that!" snapped Aya, his eyes still closed. "Didn't Ken tell you not to bother me?"  
  
Despite himself, Michel managed to look somewhat contrite. "He told me to, actually."  
  
"I should've kn--"  
  
"Because it's almost two in the afternoon!" Michel burst out. "All of us have been up hours ago! And Kurumi had to cover your shift!"  
  
Aya shifted underneath Michel, sending him sprawling. As he moved off in the direction of the washroom, he muttered; "about time that girl made herself useful."  
  
Michel made a strange sound: part gasp, part squeak. "You can't say that! That's horrible!"  
  
Aya shot him a glare and left the room, leaving Michel to wonder what he could've said to help better.  
  
He debated staying there until Aya came back, but the others could be having difficulty in the shop on their own. Yuki was working with Ken on a data-gathering mission, and so they would be in the basement; Chloe, Free and Kurumi were in the shop. Michel was the only one out of all of them whose native language was English, and who'd fully grasped the concept of flower words; Ken had finally explained them to him, but with blushing pride added that Aya was really the expert on those matters. Free was also adept at remembering correlations between flowers and meaning, as he deduced such messages within his tarot deck, but often he struggled to remember the vocabulary with customers.  
  
Michel wandered down the stairs to the main area of the shop where Chloe sat reading a newspaper. He pulled a stool out from under the table, and sat across from him. As he tried to figure out why only today had Aya had said anything about their new member, he tapped a rhythm on the formica surface. It drew a few irritated glances from the other man, but otherwise he remained silent, reading.  
  
He wished Chloe would ask what bothered him. He'd taken an instant liking to Kurumi, loving her innocence and confusion at her predicament that mirrored his own. Far away from home and thrust into a world with only a smile and a whip to protect himself against what lurked outside, he felt he could identify with her.  
  
Wouldn't Aya, as team leader, have had to agree with Mihirogi's decision to give Kurumi the choice between life or death? Why had he never said anything before? It didn't make any sense!  
  
"It's taken me this long to realise Aya didn't like Kurumi! I'm so clueless!" Michel wasn't sure if he'd really meant to say it aloud.  
  
Chloe looked over top of his newspaper, eyebrow quirked at this sudden outburst. "Aya's a veteran. He's probably not used to dealing with someone who's so still naive about the world."  
  
"But he didn't have that problem with Yuki!"  
  
A small cough behind them; Chloe had the good sense to quickly hide his smirk behind the newspaper. Yuki stood there, his mouth curled into a small pout.  
  
"Actually, he's been ignoring me lately." The boy shrugged and turned to leave.  
  
Michel sighed. "Where's Ken, then? He'll know whether this is usual for Aya or not."  
  
"Still in the basement. We were trying to track some missing people via internet records." Yuki tapped his glasses. "But my eyes started going funny after a couple of hours, so I handed it over to Ken."   
  
"Thanks!" Michel threw the letter on the table and rushed off, clattering noisily down the metal steps. Below, his eyes slowly adapted to the change from natural light to the twilight of the basement. Ken sat hunched over the keyboard, harsh electric light reflected against his face. His eyebrows met in a knot.  
  
"You should've asked me," Michel chided gently.  
  
Ken looked up briefly, then back to the screen. "There were other things to deal with today. Like Aya."  
  
Michel smiled and moved closer to Ken, resting his hands on the other man's shoulders and rubbing gently.  
  
"I just figured I'd be no good at talking to him. We'd always leave that to O--" he broke off, and rested his head in his hands. "We'd always leave that to someone else."  
  
Michel pressed tightly at the muscles in his shoulder to sooth him. "I still think it would've better if you'd gone. I mean, you... Did something happen between you two?"   
  
"You could say that. He got a girlfriend," he muttered.  
  
Michel whistled. "Wow, always the last to know." He bit his lips as he realised that was entirely the wrong thing to say. He searched through the phrases in his head, trying to decide which one was the best expression of tact and sympathy. Yet most of all he wanted such an expression that would answer all the questions he had. What had caused their break-up? What was said? How had Ken found out? What was she like?  
  
And hey, a... girl? Since when?  
  
"You and me both," said Ken bitterly. He smashed his fist into the keyboard, and the computer's cursor left an ascii trail in its wake.  
  
"Why don't I take over here?" Michel asked. It wasn't much of a question as he'd already begun to wheel Ken's chair away from the screen.  
  
"Sure..." muttered Ken. "How did Aya seem to you?"  
  
Michel crouched in front of the screen and flicked through the booklet. Each page had a mugshot and a short criminal history. Michel couldn't help but notice that even though all subjects had been photographed from the most unflattering of angles, they were extremely beautiful young people. He picked a profile at random; a pink-haired teenager named Layla, but was saddened to realise he felt nothing to see that her file, like about half of the other profiles, had 'confirmed dead' written on it in Ken's handwriting. He flicked through until he got to a section with no further notes on them.  
  
"Hey, how did Aya seem?" Ken repeated.  
  
Michel snapped out of his appreciation of a particularly fine redhead with hair flowing down to his shoulders. "Ah, no, he didn't seem very well at all."  
  
"He was acting kinda strange, yeah? I thought it was just m--"  
  
"Oh! He phoned the other day!" Michel exclaimed, pointing at the name in the next profile.  
  
"This name?" asked Ken, a note of disbelief creeping into his voice as he wheeled the chair back over to the computer. "This name right here?"  
  
Michel nodded. "For sure. Said his name was Mister Crawford. Loud and clear."  
  
"And I'm supposed to believe that the leader of an international band of terrorists just phoned this shop and announced himself to us?"  
  
Michel shrugged defensively. "He seemed nice. He had a lovely deep voice too."  
  
Ken spun around; the chair crashed loudly against the table leg. The next thing Michel knew, he was pinned against the staircase's metal pillar.  
  
"And. You. Didn't. Think. To. Mention. It?" growled Ken with gritted teeth.  
  
Michel squirmed, but refused to stop smiling. To do otherwise would suggest he'd done something wrong. "Aya told me it was a wrong number," he explained.  
  
"Wrong number!?"  
  
Michael tried not to laugh at the way Ken's voice could slide from a gruff baritone to a stunned squeak. "Yeah! He said he had something important to tell us, but because Aya disconnected the phoneline--"  
  
"Aya did what?" Ken pushed himself away, and clattered up the staircase two steps at a time.  
  
"I'll try to find out some more about that guy, right?" Michel yelled after him, but he'd already left.   
  
***  
  
Two figures stood in a featureless hall. Behind them, tall glass panels gave them a view overlooking the aeroplanes and the runways. The floor was a soft grey vinyl, the walls were flint-coloured, the chairs bolted to to the floor were pale black.  
  
At least one of the figures wasn't quite so colourless. His red hair spilled out of his military cap and contrasted sharply with his purple shirt. It took a little attention away from the pistol nestled in the holster in full view of any airport staff who cared to give the pair more than a cursory glance. Not that it mattered to the telepath; he'd been mentally waving the inspectors along since he'd arrived. It gave him something with which to occupy his mind while they waited. Why were check-in times so long?  
  
"Not long now," replied his companion, before Schuldig had even voiced his complaint. Crawford stared up at the information board, without really taking in the information as each letter spun and changed to reflect new destinations. In any case his abilities would let him know the correct departure lounge before he saw it with his own eyes. His head jerked slightly, and behind his glasses, his eyes clouded over. "London Heathrow. Gate twenty-three," he murmured.  
  
They began to gather up their luggage, each slinging a rucksack onto their back. It was a quick walk to their gate as they were already close by, and there weren't many people around. Airports always seemed to have vast amounts of space.  
  
Already a line had formed at the desk. People surged forward and shoved their bags through the x-ray machine. Others stripped their belts off and took the spare change out of their wallets to walk through the metal-detecting arch. Crawford and Schuldig took their places at the back of the line.  
  
"I got them a present before we left." Schuldig said, giving the hand luggage at his feet an indicative kick. The gun bounced against his thigh. "Perhaps they won't try to kill us on sight, hmm?"  
  
"Who knows?" asked Crawford with a slight smile.  
  
"You do," Schuldig shot back, resting his hand on the other man's shoulder.  
  
"The one I would've expected to leap at our collective throats is dangerously unwell." Crawford laughed slightly, and planted a quick kiss on Schuldig's cheek. He moved closer to his ear to whisper, "Perhaps he'll even die..."  
  
Schuldig let out a sigh of contentment as they reached the front of the queue. Together, he and Crawford walked through the electronic doorframe, setting off the alarms and causing the amber lights to blink like crazy.  
  
Not one official moved.  
  
"I have a gun and a German sausage," remarked Schuldig to the nearest inspector, as his eyes became as pale as Crawford's were earlier. This even drew a smirk of appreciation from Crawford.  
  
"Move along," said another baggage inspector blandly.  
  
***  
  
Michel heard something smash, followed by a rapid string of insults from Ken. At least, he assumed they were insults; they were in Japanese, but they didn't sound very friendly. He struggled to speak louder over the noise to complete a sale with his current customer. The shop's unique selling point was that it specialised in the Victorian "tussie mussie", and with that came inflated prices and, in turn, increased customer expectations.  
  
"Just what is going on up there?" inquired the elderly gentleman, tapping his gold-topped cane loudly on the floor.  
  
Michel smiled as sweetly as he could, and continued to bind the flowers and leaves together. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Chloe, Free and Yuki quietly leave the room and head upstairs. "What colour wrapping and ribbon would you like with this?" he asked, unable to think of any good reason to give.  
  
The man swung his cane around and jabbed in the direction of the stairs. "Young lady, perhaps you'd better check that everyone's safe."  
  
Michel didn't correct him and tried not to grimace. "The other clerks are dealing with it, sir. We have silver, gold, white, black, pink, and blue to choose from."  
  
"Hm?" He continued to stare in the direction of the stairs.  
  
"To wrap the flowers, sir. You can choose the colours."  
  
"Well, what colours have you got then?"  
  
There was an enormous crash from above, followed by a series of stamps that were getting closer to them. Aya strode out, but his palid expression showed neither anger nor pain, just a complete lack of emotion.  
  
It was decided in a split-second: there was no way Aya was leaving. Not when he'd disturbed the customers and threatened their identities. Not when it sounded like he'd hurt Michel's team-mates.  
  
Michel side-stepped straight into Aya's path. He braced himself, as he watched Aya come at him as if in slow-motion. He had time to think, time to ground himself and lower his centre of gravity to better stop the considerably taller and heavier man.  
  
Aya ploughed through him and Michel felt his legs crumple underneath him. He tried twisting round to see where Aya was going, but the ground smacked him on his side. His jaw clenched as the rest of his body went limp on the ground, and he squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
The pain started pounding in his head and spread to the rest of body. He heard himself mumbling that he was okay and he didn't think anything was broken. Warm arms encompassed him and pressed something wet and cold against his aching ribs. He had the vague sensation that he was being moved.  
  
He opened his eyes, only hazily aware of having shut them. He was pretty sure he was in his bedroom, although the curtains were drawn and the main lights were off. His bedside lamp, however, was being used as a reading light at the end of his bed. He squinted to see who it was.  
  
"Ken...?"  
  
"No," the voice sounded apologetic.  
  
"Free, then!" Michel tried to inject some enthusiasm into it, but he felt dizzy again.  
  
Free turned off the lamp, and Michel was left with blue splotches of colour swimming in front of his eyes. His friend crept closer until he was right beside the bed.  
  
"How do you feel?" Free asked.  
  
Michel snuggled down into the covers. "I'm fine. Just need some sleep."  
  
"I'll be quick then. But I got something for you," Free said, keeping his voice hushed. He pointed to a bouquet of flowers already lying at Michel's bedside.  
  
"Ah, that's nice. I'll get some water for them later." Michel tried to smile at the present, but he wrapped the things all day long; picked out the colours for indecisive customers and told them what they really wanted each flower to represent. He supposed it was a thoughtful last minute idea, but the concept of flowers for a florist was laughable.  
  
He turned his head, and his eyes were drawn to the bright yellow acacia florets. Friendship? A genuine smile crept across his face on the realisation that Free had made deliberate choices in his selection. Of course, he wasn't to know that the acacia also referred to secret love too, as Michel did. The yellow thread-like petals of the Chinese chrysanthemum matched perfectly: cheerfulness under adversity. And finally, the pale honey flower set the display off perfectly.  
  
Love, sweet and secret.  
  
Warmth spread across Michel's face. Perhaps he'd chosen two or three different types with a matching colour? The red that was almost certainly colouring his cheeks was more on Free's behalf than anything else.  
  
"I had better go," Free said, getting up. "But... my deck selected a card for you and I want you have it." He reached into his pocket and produced a single tarot card.  
  
Michel took it gingerly, taking care not to touch the edges as all of Free's cards held a hidden blade. He looked at the image of a juggler concentrating intently on keeping two golden circles in the air while chaos reigned in the background. The writing underneath told him it was the two of pentacles. "What does it mean?"  
  
"Lots of things. It's a search for balance. A sign that things will get more complicated. Or a challenge to rise to the occasion." Free was almost out of the room now, as if he wanted to escape. In the half-light from the open door, Michel could see he was biting his lip.  
  
"I see." Michel looked back at the card with this in mind. He could see the symbolism now. "And the flowers? What do they mean?"  
  
"They matched your hair colour." Free took a deep breath, and slipped into the corridor.  
  
***  
  
Aya's chin pressed into his own chest, his body slumped uneasily in the swivel chair. He sat across from a large oakwood desk. Certificates and trophies were positioned or hung randomly around the office. A shadow stood over a shivering bundle propped against a filing cabinet.  
  
Sitting in the over-stuffed leather chair was a girl in her early teens, and it was almost comical how the enormous chair dwarfed her. She wore an uncomfortable-looking blazer and her tie was striped in the unusual colour scheme of black, white and burgundy, which matched the crest on her ironed-on school badge. Ribbons in the same three colours were woven into her twin braids. She spun herself round in the chair several times before letting out an uncontrolled giggle.  
  
At this, Aya snapped to attention.  
  
The shadow took a step backwards into the light, revealing himself to be a Japanese boy in his mid-teens. He moved gracefully over to where Aya stared blankly at the girl. His lips twitched into a open expression of sheer happiness. "Just a few more days of programming, and you're ours."  
  
The bundle in the corner jerked backwards, then thrust her shoulders fowards to strain against the rope. He tutted. "It's hardly my fault if you refused your meds today, mother."  
  
He took a few steps towards her, then watched with amusement as she struggled to kick her herself away from him with bound legs.  
  
"Ah, but you're not her, despite appearences, are you?" He bent down to kiss her gag, leaving the material glistening. "Silly!" he chided, wagging his finger. "That's what makes this okay!"  
  
"Maria." He turned towards the girl. "Return him to his team-mates. Ensure you present yourself well."  
  
"Yes, sir!" She jumped down off the chair. Aya's gaze followed her around the desk and accross the room until she stood in front of him. "Let's go!"  
  
***  
  
Chapter One End. 


	2. Expedition

"Honey Flower"   
Warnings: As before.   
Disclaimer: Weiß Side B belong to Oomine Shouko and Koyasu Takehito, not me. I'm not making any money from this.   
Notes: Hope this chapter clears up some of the questions from the first one. Please keep the suggestions coming, since they allow me to improve and makes things clearer. Just to clarify, Schwarz does not appear in the latest issues; I just introduced them because I like them and it makes sense for them to be there considering the ending for Nagi in Gluhen. Thank you to everyone who's commented so far.

Special thanks to Lyra Stormrider for betaing this thing and sorting out the comma abuse! Please see my 'Favourite Authors' list for her profile on this site, since this thing seems to want to strip out all code relating to URLs.

--

Honey Flower, part two.

"I realised that no matter what anyone does to you, you survive.   
You've been shot, stabbed, drowned, left for dead. Yet you stood   
before me today in no worse condition that when we first met."

Aya and Maria were already far down the corridor, away from the   
headmaster's office, so they couldn't hear the shadowed boy's quiet   
statements. Only his mother tied up in the corner was able, and as he   
hadn't made any attempt to approach her again, she remained silent for   
now.

Far louder was the sound of marching feet that came from below the   
window. School was over, and the rhythmic sound of footsteps coming down in unison could be heard.

"Aya's strong, isn't he?" the boy asked her, then waited for her reply   
as if the gag that covered her mouth didn't exist. In a smaller, more   
scared voice he begged: "Please answer?"

His mother answered in as clear a voice as she was able, although the   
reply was still an incoherent mumble. The boy frowned.

"Sometimes I don't understand any of this. I don't understand why.   
But I know I'm glad to see you again." He made a movement towards her, and watched as she closed her eyes, blinking back tears. He withdrew, and fell back into the chair.

"Of course, it will help Neue Eszet establish itself in Britain too. Seeing Krypton Brand, their main obstacle, taken out by its own leader would be perfect... I suppose." He slumped over the desk and twisted a lock of curly brown hair around his finger. "Should I care about their objectives? As long as you're here and Aya is under our control..." 

He walked towards her once more. She didn't even twitch, and he   
wondered if the medication wouldn't be necessary that afternoon. Neue Eszet had a vast amount of drugs for everything, not to mention the   
borrowed Epitaph technology which kept the students under control and teased their mind towards the eventual takeover of Britain. Such   
obedient students like Maria were a godsend.

"I want to hurt him like he hurt us."

He curled up beside his mother, and closed his eyes. One of the senior members of the organisation would collect him soon.

--

"Aya should be here by now," Ken said, slumped against the railings   
opposite a sushi restaurant in Soho.

The sky was dark now, but his surroundings were still illuminated by   
the bright lights of Piccadilly Circus only a few streets away. On the   
other side of the alley, light streamed out of the shops even though   
it was early evening. The restaurant flipped the 'closed' sign to 'open', and the group started to pick themselves up from the various waiting poses they'd adopted for the past half hour.

"I don't think he's going to show up," ventured Yuki.

No. Ken didn't buy that. The whole team had each found time out in   
their schedules to go out together. This had been a damn near   
impossible task, and that was before Mihirogi had sat them all down   
and got them to actually agree on where they'd go. In short, there was   
no way Aya would skip this evening out, and if he did, he'd have to   
answer to Hidaka Ken.

"I don't get it," said Michel, a tremor creeping into his voice. He looked intently down at his feet, averting his eyes from those watching. "Why would he do this?"

Before he'd even realised what he was doing, Ken had put a comforting arm around Michel and was patting his shoulder. He wasn't quite sure why, but it seemed to work. Poor kid was probably still recovering from the injury he'd received from Aya that morning.

Ken looked up to find Free staring at him. Their eyes met; Ken shifted   
uneasily on the spot and gently pushed Michel away from his body to   
free up his fists, in case they were needed.

"We'll wait inside the restaurant." Mihirogi cut through the others'   
conversations, causing both Free and Ken to turn sharply at the sound   
of her voice.

"I called them ahead of time and they said that the maximum stay time   
was forty-five minutes. If we go in now, we might be kicked out before Aya even arrives," said Yuki.

"Ridiculous. Chloé, can you think of anything else to do in Soho,   
besides eat?" Mihirogi smiled at him, her eyes unreadable behind her   
glasses.

"Certainly, my lady," he said. He readjusted the red rose in the lapel   
of his dinner jacket. "This way."

Ken lingered at the tail end of the small mob, and wondered if Free   
and he had really been about to fight. It certainly seemed that way at   
the time, even though he'd been the only one readying himself.

Beside him, he caught sight of Kurumi, who also trailed behind the   
others. Only then did Ken realise that she hadn't said a word since   
they left the underground station, but considering how she met the   
Krypton Brand team, perhaps that was understandable. She smiled weakly back at him, letting her blond plaits drop so they obscured her   
expression once more.

Yuki stopped abruptly, and it was only Ken's quick reflexes that   
stopped him from crashing into him. In the space of street, the mood   
had changed from restaurants selling world cuisine to unmarked shops   
with no windows and ones with leather lingerie held together with   
metal pins. Pink signs flickered in the night, advertising sex of all   
kinds.

"I'm not waiting outside while everyone else goes inside!" Yuki's   
voice cut through the night. "Do any of you realise," he explained,   
red creeping across his cheeks, "that one is exposed to far more   
indiscretions waiting around an area like this?"

"This area is delightful, Chloé, but perhaps our shopping expedition   
could wait?" Mihirogi turned to the rest of the group, waiting for   
them to either part so she could get through, or to walk in the same   
direction.

"I didn't want this trip to be a complete waste of time," said Chloé.   
"It was only a matter of time before that guy proved himself   
unreliable. Thanks be to God it wasn't during a mission!"

Ken launched himself at the other man almost before Chloé had finished his sentence. He groped blindly for his throat, but in that   
split-second he felt several hands gripping him tightly and pulling   
him away.

Chloé was breathing audibly, but otherwise unharmed. "Such an unrefined fellow."

Ken was held firmly in place by every present member of Krypton Brand. Even Kurumi had grabbed his jacket by its collar. As he got his own breathing under control, he had to admit that this wasn't the best   
company in which to attack a colleague.

Mihirogi let go of the grip she'd had on Ken's left arm. "I quite   
agree. Skipping a dinner date is one thing, but it's as if Aya hasn't   
been fully cooperating with us this past week."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say it wasn't just Ken who was jealous,"   
remarked Chloé."

Ken laughed. "We could kill her and dump her body in the Thames."

"It is good you don't hide your feelings." Chloé strode past with a   
twitch of a smirk.

"Let's go back to where we were waiting," Michel piped up. "Aya   
might've shown up after all."

"Even if he has, the place will be full by now. We might as well go   
home." Yuki adjusted his glasses, and followed Chloé.

"Do we have food for tonight?" Free turned to Ken as if he hadn't   
restrained him from killing a team-mate moments earlier.

"Nope. There might be a twenty-four hour supermarket around here   
though." It was at this point that Ken realised that those that hadn't   
walked off to the underground station were all waiting on him to make   
the decisions. He sighed mentally and chalked it up as another reason   
to want the real Aya back as soon as possible.

--

"I'm hungry," stated Schuldig.

Crawford said nothing, and continued to unpack his suitcase. He took   
out each shirt, refolded it if it had lost its shape during the flight, and put it in the chest of drawers opposite the hotel room's double bed.

"You seem pissed off. More so than usual."

For several long minutes, there was just the rustle of clothes being   
folded or hung up in the wardrobe.

Finally, Crawford spoke. "I forgot my toothbrush."

Schuldig walked to the en suite bathroom and chucked him a toothbrush wrapped in clear plastic. Crawford made no attempt to catch it, and it bounced off his head.

"Honestly," Schuldig sighed. "You're the worst traveler I've ever known."

"I don't function without sleep. It's that simple."

"Take a shower. They always wake me up." Schuldig started to unbutton the purple shirt he'd been wearing the past day or so.

"I don't need to wake up."

"The best hotel room that mind control can get, and you want to sleep   
in it?" Schuldig began to unbutton his jeans.

"Precisely." Crawford grimaced; it was true he wanted a shower, but   
any sign of clothes removal would surely be picked up on by Schuldig   
as a sign. Not that he could predict the telepath's movements right   
now. He'd been quietly superior at the start of the flight, but as the   
hours wore on and as he was subjected to inane Hollywood time-fillers, he'd become somewhat cranky.

"The trick is to never eat what they give you, never watch the tv they   
show, sleep lots and mentally anaesthetise all under-eighteens in a   
thirty metre radius."

"No wonder Nagi was always so quiet on long journeys." Crawford lay   
back on the bed and closed his eyes. He soon felt the bed slope from   
someone sitting beside him.

"Pathetic. Almost a year without a kill and you've gone soft."

Once Crawford had wanted to bring chaos to the world so that the   
strongest would survive. At that point, however, the strongest had   
included both himself and the rest of Schwarz. He wasn't so sure   
anymore since his near-death at the hands of the trio of Eszet agents.   
There was always someone stronger: it was how the universe worked. Now he didn't have the privileged position of leader and he and Schuldig were operating as equals, he found himself even doubting that he could take the other man in an ordinary fight. He could see the future, true, but the telepath could see into any mind, including his. His ego was bruised: perhaps permanently.

"Never consider me a target for your manipulations." Were he to look   
around, he felt certain that Schuldig would be naked and looking at   
him with false sweetness.

"Sometimes I think you hate me."

Schuldig's statement surprised him, although that was easy at this   
point. He turned around, and was a little relieved to see that his   
guess had been correct; not only was Schuldig naked, he was clutching a pastel pink bath towel with the hotel's initials on it. Crawford grunted non-committedly and pushed himself off the bed and towards the bathroom.

"That isn't an answer," Schuldig called after him.

"That wasn't a question," he replied.

Schuldig was beside him, hurriedly undoing Crawford's shirt buttons   
before he changed his mind. "I don't hate you either."

Crawford pulled away and unwrapped the toothbrush from its packaging. He slowly applied the toothpaste and brushed his teeth with short, deliberate strokes. Having finished, he stated, "Now you can kiss me."

"If I feel like it." Schuldig looked Crawford up and down with a   
certain amount of pity in his eyes. "Quit second-guessing yourself."

His hand snaked around the other man's waist, and his nimble fingers   
made quick work of the belt. Crawford felt the cool breeze wash over   
his legs, drawing his attention to his nakedness. He was the only one   
still wearing anything, and yet it felt like he was the one on display, not the other way round like it should be. The other man's last statement was still lodged in his mind, and even if Schuldig had begun to get him in the mood, he was no longer interested. He didn't even feel like sleeping next to him if he thought him so inferior.

Without any further help from Schuldig, he rolled off the rest of his   
clothes and kicked them aside. The frosted shower panel shut behind   
Crawford with only a little more force than he'd intended. Soon, the   
sound of rushing water filled his ears and he could feel each tense   
muscle relax. Small flashes of information came to him, then darted   
out of his reach. At least the precognition was returning to him   
slowly; by morning he should be back in complete control. The hot   
water made him feel more human and he let out a moan of contentment as he rubbed the citrus-scented shower-gel over his body.

"Well, I can see you don't need me here," commented Schuldig ruefully.

Crawford didn't even hear him.

Some time later, he stepped out of the shower to see Schuldig   
stretched across the bed, reading a tourist brochure that the hotel   
had provided.

"We're not sight-seeing."

"Then what are we doing?" Schuldig yawned, which Crawford took as a sign that he was interested in what he had to say, but had decide not   
to show it. Schuldig added: "You're not the only sleepy one."

Crawford ignored him. "We're going to buy flowers tomorrow."

"They're still florists?"

Crawford felt a subtle probing at the back of his mind, and he   
suppressed a shudder. "Out of my mind. Now."

Schuldig laughed, "So I don't even get a full briefing?"

Crawford crawled into bed and pulled the covers over his head to block out the main light.

"Are we going to just walk up and introduce ourselves to Krypton   
Brand?" Schuldig threw the tourist guide over the other side of the   
room and also got into the double bed.

Crawford bristled at the sound of that name. When had he mentioned the group previously? "If you're coming to bed, turn out the light," he   
snapped.

"You phoned them." Schuldig stood by the light switch, his posture   
challenging Crawford to look him over. When the other man didn't move, he snarled and flicked the switch.

Crawford felt a warm body join him in bed and Schuldig rolled over to   
pull him in close. Even though he was a precog, even though it wasn't   
the first time the other man had done so, it still surprised him. "I   
telephoned them, yes. I thought it might be worth a shot, or at least   
make the members of Krypton Brand more alert."

"Did it work?"

Schuldig had asked a question of him, and Crawford liked the fact that   
he was now being consulted. He turned over to face his partner. "It's   
worried them, but they're still focused on us being the problem,   
rather than Aya. I believe Takatori also sent them a letter, not that   
anyone read it."

"Aya must have intercepted it, as he did with your phonecall."

Crawford tensed once more, then let it go. "Hm. Probably."

His eyes began to close.

--

Aya stopped at the back entrance to the Kitten's House, pausing just   
before he put the key in the lock. Something was wrong, but it was as   
if there was a veil over parts of his mind. And yet...

The shop seemed quite normal to him, but there was something different about it that he felt he should be able to explain.

The lights were off. Surely, that didn't mean they'd all gone to bed   
or were all out at the same time?

His companion giggled. "Forget it! It's not important, silly!"

Aya's thoughts numbed instantly on her command. Maria, the girl from the headmistress' office, brought her hand underneath his. At her   
touch, he dropped the key into her palm, and she let them both in.

"I'm meant to be... elsewhere," Aya said softly.

"I told you, it doesn't matter! The rest of Krypton Brand doesn't matter!"

"The team doesn't matter," repeated Aya.

"Good boy!" she snickered again, twisting a slender finger around one   
of her pigtails. "Now, I want you to do something pretty special for   
me tomorrow morning, or else Mister Kisaragi will be really upset!"

Again, Aya's mind struggled to reach the surface. The name sounded   
familiar. "Kisaragi Takeru..." he said, naming the teenage boy who'd   
been in complete control of him for the past week. Somehow, he felt as if the name had been known to him before that, but the thought flew   
from his mind when the girl spoke again.

"You tell them that you're in love with me and you're leaving, okay?   
You'd rather spend the evening with me, and that's where you were   
tonight... Oh yeah, and Mister Kisaragi told me this was totally the   
most important thing! You've gotta make sure you're out of here by ten o'clock!"

"Whatever else I do, I'll leave the building before ten o'clock."

She grinned, "You behave now, yeah?"

Aya nodded in complete submission and didn't take his eyes off her as he placed the keys on the kitchen table and left the same way she   
came in.


End file.
